The Most Beautiful Flower Of All
by XIII BlackCat
Summary: This is a short story, but very sweet. It's based on one of the Sailor Moon R Movies. The story is about the relationship of a unhuman boy and a terminally ill young woman who took him away from his loneliness. Please read, I don't think you'll regret it.
1. Part I: Budding

The Most Beautiful Flower Of All… Part I: Budding

A child floated in the bubble of air with the breeze. Bangs of his light blue hair covered his curious, but unusually sad eyes. He was like a seed of a flower, floating through the world unseen and unnoticed by mankind. No one knew his name. No one knew where he was going.

He finally landed on the wet ground of a deserted courtyard, surrounded by tall, intimidating buildings and his bubble soon broke from the heavily beating rain. Alone and frightened, with his only protection gone, the uniformed boy lay helplessly under the raining sky, curling himself up into a ball.

He was alone. All alone. He doesn't know where he was on this weird planet, and he had no one to ask. After floating through space for weeks and months, the busy road with noisy cars brought no comfort, but more solitude than ever. People with umbrellas hurried along the sidewalks, but no one stopped. No one cared for a strange-looking little boy lost in the rain. He felt so abandoned and alone…

…so alone…

"My, you really shouldn't lie like that in the rain." A concerned voice said over him. "You'll ruin that pretty uniform."

He looked up and saw a young woman, around the age of eighteen, leaning over him, a worried expression on her face.

"Are you alright?" He shook his head.

"Do you have a home?" She smiled kindly under her bright yellow umbrella, where the rain was beating down upon relentlessly. He shook his head mutely again, feeling more miserable than ever. Her eyes softened as she reached out a hand and said warmly, "Then come home with me."

He stared at her hand, before slowly reaching out and touching it. It was warm and reassuring, like her smile. But…

…Why are her eyes so sad…?

"Come," she gently pulled his to his feet and drew him under her umbrella, shielding him from the rain.

They began walking, the young lady kept him by her side the whole time, away from the rain and safe from every obstacle that threatened to destroy him.

"What is your name?" She smiled down at him.

"Fioré."

"That's pretty," she remarked, pushing a strand of nutmeg hair behind her ear. She was nowhere near elegant and wasn't particularly beautiful. But what drew Fioré close to her were her sad, quiet, manner and the way she made him feel. Safe and secure. 

His companion stopped by a hedge of red roses and gently broke a rose off, handing it to him. "I love flowers."

"Yes," Fioré said, a tiny smile forming on his lips for the first time. "They are very pretty."


	2. Part II: Blooming

The Most Beautiful Flower Of All… Part II: Blooming

She gave him a hot bath, washed his hair, and dried him, all along chatting lightly to him while she worked. Fioré learned that her name was Rose and she lived alone in her apartment. She doesn't have a family, but filled up the emptiness and loneliness by taking in all sorts of stray animals, even flowers. She especially loved flowers.

She had fashioned her balcony to a form of a green house, and had picked up flowers here and there. Buttercups that grew along the side of the polluted road, pansies that had grown in gravel, and even once, the flowers from a whole park that was about to be torn down to be built over. She had taken time to remove each flower one by one and replanted them in her greenhouse.

By the time, his hair was dried, Fioré was warm. Not just physically, but spiritually as well. He's beginning to feel the presence of warmth in his heart. And that tiny fire in his weak heart was started by Rose.

Rose didn't care if his slightly slanted eyes were silver-indigo, or that his ears were elfish, or that his long hair was blue and his skin pale. She doesn't even care that he wasn't human. She loves him anyway.

He's always been a sad child, ever since he could remember. But even though he was new to this feeling of warmth, Fioré realized something:

Rose was ill. She is very sick.

However, young Fioré didn't worry too much. He thought that she, like a flower, would be fine under some careful treatments. After all, good people don't have tragic endings.

So, under Rose's love and care, Fioré blossomed into a healthy child filled with hope and love of his own for Rose, without realizing the danger she lived in everyday.

Until one day two weeks later…

Rose was more different than any human being Fioré's ever met. Instead of schooling him, she taught him to appreciate the nature. They don't leave the house much, because of Rose's poor health. But they often climbed the stairs to the roof of the apartment and fed the pigeons, studying their natural characteristics. Sometimes, they'd stare up at the sky and made out shapes and pictures from the puffy white clouds. She taught him about all about plants and had even given him his own pot of flowers to take care of. Every night, they would sit outside on the balcony to watch the stars shine and sparkle. Or if it's raining, she would read out loud to him and they'd both enjoy the coziness of each others' presence while listening to the rhythm of the rain.

Fioré has grown to love Rose and her delicate and beautiful glass heart more than anything he's ever loved.

"Look, Fioré," Rose held up his pot of flowers. "Your flowers are blooming wonderfully. You've taken good care of her." She gave him a small sad smile, which Fioré had learned, most of her smiles were sad. He looked up from where he was examining the roses in the special glass bottle that Rose keeps fresh cut flowers in.

"Thank you." The nine-year-old acknowledged. Because of his inhumanity, a week on Earth was like a year of Fioré's own time and his uniform was still the same one as the one he wore the day he arrived on Earth. He never grew out of the dark uniform with the swirls of silver and gold. Instead, it had grown with him.

"Beautiful flowers turn ugly, you know," Rose sat the pot down and came through the sliding door. "When grown with a unpurified soul—" Rose broke off and began coughing violently. Fioré hurried toward the young woman,

"Rose? Rose, are you alright?" He helped her back to her bed, where she's spending more and more of her time in, and watched her anxiously with his silver-indigo eyes.

"I'll…be…fine…Fioré…" She said between racks of coughs. Then she leaned back on her pillow, her face deathly pale.

"When are you going to get better?" Fioré bit his lips. Rose hadn't been getting better, he finally accepted the truth, but worse. His eyes strayed to the glass bottle atop the table, and he somehow sensed a connection to Rose. It was only an empty glass milk bottle, but to Fioré, it seemed to hold Rose's very life. And, he had been noticing, as Rose's condition worsen, the flowers seem to follow right along. At this moment, he could see the roses that were fresh and alive minutes ago, shrivel up and drooping their heads.

"I'm afraid I won't be getting better." Rose smiled her usual sad smile and held out a hand. "Come here, Fioré. My Fioré." He went over obediently.

"I'm afraid," she sighed. "I have something in my lungs that's making me sick, and it wouldn't go away."

That was the day Fioré found out that Rose has cancer.

"But," he trembled. "You'll get better, won't you?"

"I'm afraid not, Fioré." Her eyes were filled with unshed tears and her smile was weary. "I've been sick for a very long time now, my flower, and it'll be good to leave the pain when the time has come. But," her smile brightened just a little. "Don't worry, kid. I'll be around until you've grown into a fine young man."

"And after that?" Fioré backed away. "You saw how fast I'm growing, so how long do you have to live? Another two weeks? Maybe a month?"

"Fioré…"

"No," he said softly. "I won't let you die!" he turned and ran. 

__

Even Rose is leaving me all alone… Tears rolled down Fioré's face like two silver streams. _I won't let you die_. _I won't let you. I promise I'll find a flower worthy of you. And when I return, it'll be with the perfect flower!_

He didn't return that night. He didn't return in the morning.

He didn't return for three whole months…


	3. Part III: Wilting

The Most Beautiful Flower Of All… Part III: Wilting

A silent form landed outside of the hospital window lightly. His pale blue hair was as light as the moon that shone behind him. Now, his black and gold have been replaced for white. White pants, shoes, and a white tuxedo jacket over a silver shirt with curls of black. A long, heavy cape of dark indigo with black inner lining and black shoulder plates swirled with gold accented his outfit. A red rose, the same rose that Rose had given him the first day, was pinned at the breast pocket of the white jacket.

He peered through the blinds.

Ah, there she is. His Rose. She was hooked onto an oxygen tank and an IV was inserted at her wrist, while wires snaked from her chest and skin hooked up to a monitor that kept a constant vigil over her beating heart. She was as pale and as gaunt as death, but to him, she looked beautiful and radiant and he loves her more than ever. While she's still the same, three months has done a great deal to him. One year of his time is one year on earth. He is now twenty-one.

The minute he had returned to Earth, he stopped by her apartment but had found that no one had lived there for days. All of her flowers in greenhouse were wilted. And the glass bottle on the table was empty, as he had expected it to be. He had made it barely in time…

The dark count silently opened the window and dropped in. He was as light as a cat as he walked toward the woman. The young woman that had meant the world to him. The young woman he loved with his heart. His gloved finger couldn't help but gently traced the features of her face.

_At last, Rose. At last, I have fulfilled my search. I have found the perfect flower, worthy of you._ _The one that you want… The one that you need… _He thought back to one of the most memorable conversations they had.

_"Rose?" Fioré looked away from the TV screen, where they were watching an old romance film, and asked Rose something he's always wondered about._

"Hmm…?" Rose looked down from cuddling him. 

"Have you ever been kissed?" His question was innocent and while her smile was still on her lips, Fioré noticed her eyes seemed to dim with sadness.

"No, Fioré. No guy wants to kiss a girl who's very ill. What they have in mind is a pretty girl that's healthy and outgoing."

"Don't you ever wanted to be kissed?" Fioré looked up at her, feeling sad himself because Rose looked so sad.

"No. What I really want, I cannot have."

Eighteen…she's too young to die, he stared at her silently in the moonlight. She's too good to die. He'd been so lonely, so unsure, and so craving for someone to care. He hadn't wanted much, only someone to care for him. And she had cared. She had not only cared, but she had loved him with unconditional love.

_I had wondered through space all alone… _he thought silently. _Not knowing when or where I was born… And I got tired of it all, ending up on Earth, your planet. I've been so lonely…you were the first to touch this piece of me… I knew the moment I looked in your eyes…_

…that you called for me…

…I was no longer alone.

But I couldn't stay near you. Because my body couldn't live for a long time on Earth…

I never knew I would be so happy when I receive flowers…like I was the first day I met you. The red rose you gave me seemed to have sparked a fire in my heart for the first time.

I had promised, I'll bring back lots of flowers, when I return…

After that, I wondered through many planets…in search of finding a flower worthy of you.

And now…I finally found…the perfect flower.

I'm the only one that can give you this meritorious flower.

I won't let you, who took me away from my loneliness, die.

You were so lonely when I first arrived, just like me. I understood some of your loneliness. I was alone. For three and a half million years, I was alone…

Loneliness, you knew the loneliness I felt. You knew exactly what loneliness was… 

You, like me, have felt many times that it was unfortunate that you were born…

You knew how lonely it was to not have friends of comrades…

You'll forever remember how lonely it felt for others to not understand who you really are…or accept you for who you are after they've known…

And this…will be the end…

Live.

His heart, which was weak before, is now strong. Strong with will, strong with love. With a little turn from his hand, he held a white, blossoming flower, glittering with illusory radiance. 

__

Rose, thank you… You have saved from my sad world of misery and brought light and love into my life… Rose, now…I will fulfill that promise… This is a flower of life. It contains the sum of all my energy _and its nectar…is the nectar of life._

_At last have I found a flower worthy of you._

He kissed the flower, drawing from it its sweet nectar. Then, he lowered his lips gently upon hers. Her eyes fluttered upon his phantom touch.

"Fioré…?" She murmured softly. He smiled. "You've grown."

"Yes, Rose." His deep voice vibrated ethereally through the silent night.

"You came back…" She reached up a weak hand to touch him, her words trembling, as if she couldn't believe he came back to her. Fioré caught her hand and cradled it against his chest.

"I told you I would. I came back to fulfill my promise."

"You're a handsome young man, now." Her lips curled up to the same sad smile he remembered. Her eyes were forever sad. "I wish…" She began softly. "I…wish…" She was choked up by tears.

"Shhh…" He placed a white-gloved finger on her lips. "Go to sleep. Out time together is short, you must rest." He smiled, staring deep into the soul of her eyes. If only he could hold on to this moment forever. If only he could bottle this moment up in Rose's empty glass bottle. But Fioré knew that he could never capture this feeling any more than he could gather the moonbeams in a net. Time will have to go on, with or without him. 

"I'll take care of you now, Rose, as you have taken care of me," he said softly. "I'll always be with you."

_Yes, _he straightened back sadly as she fell back to a deep slumber. _Our time is short indeed. _He pushed his blue hair back as he looked at the moon and extracted from his uniform a small glass vial. He set it down and gave one last look at Rose's peaceful, sleeping form.

_There are many beautiful flowers in this world, _he thought as his body began to glow._ But you, Rose, you are the most beautiful flower of all…_

Then, after a bright shining light, he was gone, leaving behind him only a few shimmers and the low, fading last words of his voice.

The next day, Rose stood by the window of her apartment, holding a small vial where a pale blue rose with delicate veins of indigo-silver was blooming. The doctors who had given her thirty-six hours to live, are now proclaiming her mysteriously and miraculously curled. Not a trace of cancer showed through the tests. She looked out her window and smelled the rose.

"Fioré…"

Then, she smiled. Her smile was still sad, but this time, there was a glint of hope and future in the depth of them. As she lifted her arms heavenwards into the faint breeze, she could hear Fioré's whisper flow pass her in the breeze,

__

"I'll be with you, Rose…

…Forever…"


End file.
